WHAT’S-HIS-NAME

        Your face, my friend, is plain as day to me;
        Your name, however, stays a mystery,
        A name I know, and yet cannot recall,
        Hidden behind a mental screen or wall
        Or sunken in a pool and slow to rise,
        Which only in due time I’ll recognize,
        Not soon enough to miss embarrassment
        Except when, in the nick, it’s heaven sent.

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